


It’s In the Cards

by NeverKnightfire



Series: The Heart’s Proximity [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), Cartomancy, Emotional Hurt, Hurt Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Husk Swears (Hazbin Hotel), Husk is Bad At Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Self-Doubt, card tricks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:13:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28757895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverKnightfire/pseuds/NeverKnightfire
Summary: Short prequel to Failures. Husk attempts to amuse himself by baiting Alastor with some trick card shuffling.
Relationships: Alastor/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: The Heart’s Proximity [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028173
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	It’s In the Cards

Fifty-two. Thirteen of four. In his clawed fingers, they faithfully danced for him.

Alastor's red on red eyes stared as Husk fanned the cards. The Radio Demon had drawn close when the cards came out. From the position he had taken across the table, Al clearly thought himself in for a private show. 

Well, couldn't leave his public waiting. 

Faces down, a quick twist of his wrist, and the heavy paper stock poured sideways through the parted trail in the fur below his knuckle to stack again neatly in the other large hand. Once the deck was whole once more, he flexed his palm and rotated his hand. The small pages of suits seemed to dart by magic, compelled to leap from their neat stack into his other hand. 

The motion was steady, fluid. One might think the playing cards were connected by strings or wires. They weren't. To remind his audience of this, he flicked a few of the assortment with extra force, encouraging them to project further from the stacked deck pooling in his palm. 

One. Two. three. Four. 

Alastor blinked as Husk fanned the cards again, deftly pulling these four cards from their fellows and slapping them face down onto the table between them even as he spun the remainder of the set into a neat, tight spiral. He paused, considering the resulting perfect circle for the barest moment before turning the hand, quickly spinning the deck back into one neat pile with a single digit. 

Alastor seemed baffled by the sudden reappearance of the straight-sided stack of cards, now face up and staring at him, and Husk let himself smirk. It was easy for one versed and immersed in real magic to forget the powerful enchantment that was pure physical skill. For those who dealt in Power, Power was the explanation for anything their eyes could not quickly and easily dissect. Husk grinned as he cut the deck in half, each part cradled in his fingers on either side of his index claw. With a satisfying fluttering sound, they blended back together into a single stack. 

The damned were an easier audience than Vegas had ever been, if you were of a mind to put on a show. Where the human mind knew better than "magic", knew there was a trick, a gag, a bit of smoke and mirrors that was deceiving it, and would kick up a fuss about fakery and charlatans? Well, Hell changed that, didn't it? Magic was real here. Real as pain and suffering, and liable to cause either. 

Very few here in the realm of the dead had the nerve or the inclination to challenge what their eyes told them. There was too much risk involved in challenging a display of what could be Power. Husk could be just a drunk, toying with pieces of paper and some sleight of hand. He might be safe to heckle. He might not even care about the odd half-empty bottle thrown his way. 

It was also possible that Husk could be showing off his mastery over controlling physical objects with his Power, just waiting for a mark to offer itself up for some special amusement. He could be a manifestation of Luck, idly amusing himself between striking down those who crossed him with charges of destructive misfortune that would shake the ground as blood spilled. 

Husk admittedly had cut a demon's throat with a card once, after the inconsiderate bastard had attempted to slap the flowing deck from his hands. He'd been in a poor sort of mood, hungover and full of the unique blend of bitter despair that came to him when he thought too long and hard about how many things he'd wasted in his life. 

It had barely been a conscious decision, the action seemed almost predestined and natural. Pulling the razor-like trick card from his wing with a thumb as he side-stepped the obnoxious demon seemed as natural a thing as sending it slicing into the fool's neck. He didn't need to use the card, he had his claws that could tear, and his wings that could deliver a nasty blow to the unsuspecting, but the card was part of the show. It was style, rather than efficiency, and it sent the proper sort of message to the dying demon's friends. 

"Nine of Spades," he had sighed as he yanked the thing from the bloody wreck of the carotid artery. "Tidings of death and misfortune. Too bad, fella. At least it ain't permanent, this time." He wiped the blood off on the dead demon's shirt, taking his time to carefully clean the card before returning it to the deck. "Who else wants to try their luck?" 

No one had, of course. As far as they knew, all of the cards in his hands were potentially able to perform deadly tricks like that on command. 

Maybe he did have some very small amount of Power, but he wasn't going to flaunt it unnecessarily. No sir, it's all cheap tricks and sleight of hand, here. Perhaps he was a little more fortunate here and there than he ought to be, but shit, a good distraction's all it takes to turn the tide of most any situation. 

Even Alastor was ignorant to what Husk's middling amount of Hell-blessed (or perhaps cursed) abilities fully entailed, and he intended to keep it that way. They weren’t that impressive. Fuck if he could even remember them himself, most of the time. Thinking about it made his head ache and that weird pain in his spine kick up from just below his shoulders. 

They were his, though. And he wasn’t giving them up. Certainly not to the fucker who’d stolen his soul.

Husk reached to turn over the four cards on the table. Four aces, one for each suit. He sent the cards spinning into a fluttering wave before cutting the deck. Another needlessly showy shuffle later, and he was dealing out seven stacks in a tableau. Alastor's brows knit in confusion as Husk set aside the last of the hand and considered the table before him seriously. 

"Husker? What in the world is this?" 

Husk made a show of looking up, as if he had forgotten that Alastor was even there. "Huh, you're still here? It's fucking solitaire, what's it look like?" Being in thrall to the bastard had very few perks, and damned if yanking the fucker's chain with semi-plausible deniability now and then wasn't the best one. 

Al's upturned nose wrinkled in that was that was absolutely not the most amusing display of being annoyed that Husk had ever seen, in life or in death. "You're just...? That's not even-! Really, Husker! What tomfoolery is this? You catch my eye, lure me in with your gratuitous display, and then pretend you've no idea why I'm even here?" 

Husk shrugged, drawing the cards neatly back into his grasp as he stifled a snicker. "I ain't your mama, I don't keep tabs on your goings-on." If Al squinted that right eye just a bit harder, his monocle was going to be launched clean off his face from the pressure. Heh, maybe he could get a little extra fun for the day out of the guy. With the promise of a simple card trick, he would probably end up getting to privately laugh in the ignorant buffoon's face to boot. 

Cards were far more than mere playthings and game pieces, after all. If you knew how to read, they had had meanings all their own. All part of the show, folks. Step up and be amazed at a small feat of cartomancy, disguised as a simple card trick. Husk grinned lazily at the thought. What would his cards have to say about this jackass, if he thought to ask them? 

He drew a clawed thumb across the deck, relishing the satisfying sound that they made as he manipulated them. The cards were one of the few things he could trust. They might be two-faced, but he was familiar with their sides. They couldn't trick him, unless he left himself open to be tricked. 

Twist. Flip. Fan. Twirl. Cut. Shuffle. Stack, shuffle and fan again. 

"Go ahead then, pick a card." He spread the fan of cards out onto the table in invitation, and Alastor brightened at the promise of a trick. He eagerly scanned the backs of the cards, studiously considering the options before he reached out and delicately pulled one free of its fellows to hold against his chest. 

"No peeking!" the deer demon insisted, and Husk snorted at the childish demand. As if he needed to peek, these were his goddamned cards. 

"Nine of diamonds," the cat demon guessed, fighting a laugh. That was Al, alright. A ruiner, a plague upon all those nearby. 

Alastor glanced down at his card and stiffened, the glee on his face turning to surprise. "Er... No, actually?" He set the card face up before him, a two of hearts. 

"The fuck?" Husk complained, reaching to pick up the card. Faithful love? What kind of gag was this, a substitution? He turned it in the light. It was one of his cards. The familiar scratches from his claws were on the back, and the wear along the rounded corners where the paper had gone soft and pliant was exactly as it should be. He'd been sure it was a nine of diamonds. 

"Husk?" 

"We're doing this right," Husk muttered, slapping the card back onto the rest of the deck and turning them all face up. The jokers were kicked from the pile in his hand, discarded to flutter down like lost feathers to the floor. Husk furiously shuffled the remaining deck. There was supposed to be a whole spiel going on, a long-winded tale of the history of cards and the symbols thereon. A spell of mysticism, meant to distract and delight. 

Husk couldn't remember it, at the moment. The only thing on his mind was the betrayal. His own cards, turned against him. It was making his head hurt again. He pulled three cards from the deck, laying them in front of his spot at the table, face down. He scrutinized the backs closely. 

That first one, that one was an ace of clubs. The next was a ten of spades. Last was a five of spades. A past of wealth and happiness, a present bound by imprisonment, and a future of disappointment. He slid the edge of one claw under the leftmost card and flipped the lot. 

"What?" 

An eight of spades, a six of hearts, and a ten of diamonds had revealed themselves to him. A past of disappointment, a present poised for something wonderful, and a future of excellent fortune. Husk's face darkened with outrage at the farce. As if HE could draw a timeline like this!

"Husker? What's wrong?" Alastor's voice was distant to Husk's ears, a bad transmission that was playing from a horizon fraught with new horrors. What was this? His eyes snapped up to meet the Radio Demon's own. 

"Did you do this?!" he demanded, ears ringing at the mockery of a message in the cards. "I know you like yer sick jokes, but this is fucking bullshit! Where the hell do you get off, fucking with my cards?!" 

Alastor actually took a step back from the table, eyes wide and ears alert as if he were truly the prey animal he resembled, being confronted by a slavering ambush predator. "I'm certain that I don't know what you mean! I have done nothing but watch, and when prompted, select a single card! Whatever is the matter?" 

Husk sputtered, gesturing towards the faces of the upturned cards. "You're telling me that you didn't have shit to do with this? How fucking dumb do you think I am, Alastor?! You're playing me for a fool again! Well fuck this and fuck you!" The cat demon flung the rest of the cards in his hand to the floor and stormed back to the bar, where he grabbed the first bottle that crossed his path and settled in to drown himself with it. 

Alastor, left behind in a sea of abandoned cards, stared after the winged demon in shock. Husk's outburst had certainly been surprising, but one could hardly call it entertaining. He'd thought that it was all a gag at first, a bit of misdirection meant to disguise some new, marvelous twist that would reveal itself with a delightful fanfare. 

Instead, it seemed that whatever Husk had blown up about was truly bothersome. A true pity, that. Seeing the chimeric demon smiling and enjoying himself had been such a rare and wonderful treat. 

"Al? What happened?" The princess was frowning down at the cards now and giving him a reproachful look. Alastor immediately pasted on his most energetic smile. 

"Oh no worries my dear! Why, Husker has simply set me up for a game of fifty-two pick up! HA!" If he let out a small, out of tune garble of static with the laugh, she was polite enough not to comment on it. 

"Well... okay. Um, but listen, it seemed like maybe this was kind of a blow-up. You know, if you need to talk to someone, demon to demon, you can always come to me." She smiled broadly, and Alastor let his own expression fall back into a bemused grin. 

Poor girl, she really did believe herself the den mother of their little pack of misfit heathens, didn't she? 

"I make no promises, my dear!" He chuckled as he spoke, punctuating his words with light, out of tune interference. "I think you'll find that I don't give up my secrets for anything less than a bargain. Now if you'd like to place a wager, we could certainly play our own game and make things interesting...!" With a gesture, his Power pulled the scattered cards into his hand before he followed her from the room. The sound of their chatter dimmed as they left the hotel lobby. 

From his position at the bar, Husk stared into the bottle in his hand. His eyes were stinging and wet, and his throat was painfully tight. Just when he thought there was nothing else Al could take from him, this. Betrayal by his own cards. 

The empty place inside of him ached. The cracks in the shell of his being were creaking from the strain of keeping their shape around the hollow void inside. What a laugh; a washed-up magician who'd liked to think he was special. A has-been who sold his soul for what amounted to a kick in the teeth. 

He truly was a fool, and deserving of Alastor's mirthful ridicule, wasn’t he?

**Author's Note:**

> There are several different guides to cartomancy that I have found, and the exact meanings of the cards vary between them. The ones that I have used, as well as the particular rules Husk ascribes to the process, shouldn’t be taken as the definitive process. There are many methods that can be used to do readings.
> 
> The idea of Husk, the guy whose whole motif is about “Luck” and gambling, being a casual fan of doing playing card readings for his own amusement seemed like an interesting idea to me. I don’t know if anyone has thought to pair him with that skill, but it seems like a good fit.


End file.
